Almost Perfect
by IceDynamiteDragonflyStars
Summary: Ballet is a vicious art. Some manage to be perfect. Others will give up all they have in an attempt to copy their perfection. Anya happens to fall so much harder than everyone else. [Rochu]


**Ooh, it's been awhile. I've spent the summer on Fictionpress, editing the one same chapter. I really am going in circles.**

 **For the curious, the spacing in this story is inspired by** ** _One,_** **by Sarah Crossan, which is one of my favourite ever books.**

 **It looks odd**

 **and pretentious**

 **but it is very**

 **readable.**

 **Like me, incidentally. Except I am odd and pretentious, I don't just look it.**

 **And finally, I do realise eating disorders are just as bad of a problem in men. I use fem!Russia because Chufem!Ro has about four fanfictions and it is one of my favourite ships. I feel the world needs a fifth.**

* * *

 _ **Yao**_

He is

beautiful.

I think I would like it

if we were

friends.

 ** _Tuesdays_**

We meet on

Tuesdays.

Because I have work and dance

and he has to work too.

He says he would like to see me

onstage.

And I say I would like to see him

next Tuesday.

 ** _London_**

It is nothing like Moscow.

It is cloudy,

always.

The people are condescending

when my English slips

or I forget a

word.

When can I go home?

 ** _Dates_**

I think me and Yao are becoming

more than friends.

I hope we are becoming

more than friends.

I haven't had more then friends

before.

 ** _Movies_**

He kisses me

as we watch a movie.

I try and kiss back properly

but I don't know how.

But at least I know

we are more than friends.

 ** _Practise_**

I learn to kiss.

We have plenty of practise

on Tuesdays.

But then dance practise takes over

because we have a show

and I don't see him

at all.

But he will be in the audience.

He will see me onstage.

I will make sure to look nice.

 ** _Home_**

I move into his apartment

after a year.

I am happy because

he cooks such nice food

and we are not restricted

to Tuesdays.

He has a nice home.

It will not be hard

to make it my home too.

 ** _Falling Feathers_**

My instructor says I must

lose

weight.

I think that she is right,

because the other girls in the class are light,

and when they dance, they float

like feathers

falling

to

the

ground.

I want to be a feather too.

 ** _Always a Better Dancer_**

Yao has made chicken soup.

I stir it

and watch the little chunks of food

spin.

They dance more gracefully than me,

I'm sure.

Soup will not make me a feather.

 ** _Prettier_**

Marianne says I look nice.

This is the first time another dancer

has talked to me.

They say I am creepy

when they think I can't hear.

Marianne asks if I have lost weight.

Have I?

I think I have, a little.

Not enough, but a little.

And it was so easy, too.

Yao has not said anything, but it hasn't been long.

I think I will try and

be

lighter.

 _ **Being Light is Easy**_

I can avoid lunch at work

at school

as a guidance counsellor.

I can stay in my office.

I can tell Yao I will eat breakfast

on the bus.

He is trying to make me eat.

He does not want me

to be a

feather

even though I will look nice

and I will dance better.

He is angry when I do not eat.

He says it is not

healthy.

He does not realise how much bigger I am

than the others.

He does not realise how much smaller

I need to be.

 ** _Red_**

I have stopped bleeding

every month.

I wonder why?

I'm not having a baby.

I took a test.

I have not had the chance to make one

anyway

because I am always tired

and he is always angry.

He says I have to eat.

I am okay, I really am.

I buy some new paint

for my nails.

It is red, Yao's favourite.

Maybe he will like it

and not be angry.

 ** _Sleep_**

Sleep is a friend.

I am tired,

so tired.

I wake up tired,

I spend my day aching to be at home

and in bed.

I spend my day aching everywhere.

My legs ache, moving hurts.

Still, I take on extra dance practise.

 ** _Doctor_**

Yao makes an appointment

when I

slip

in the shower.

I slipped and hit my head.

That is all.

 ** _Clinic_**

The walls of the waiting room

are cream.

It is pretty.

I watch a little boy cough

as he stares

at a picture book.

Why am I here?

I am not sick.

The doctor tells me I am malnourished.

I am handed a sheet filled with pictures of food

and a diet

I must stick to.

At the bus station, I take it from my pocket

and crumple it

until it is a perfect, hard little ball.

I am not sick, I am almost pretty.

 ** _What Used to be my Sun_**

I tell Yao I'm not sick, that the doctor says

there is nothing wrong.

He frowns, but does not accuse me of

lying.

I am not a liar anyway.

He just tells me he watered my sunflowers.

That they will bloom soon.

My sunflowers.

I forgot them.

I tell Yao that I ate

on my way home

and I try to not see that he looks hurt.

My feet hurt.

They are black and blue and purple and green and bleeding.

But this happens to dancers.

It just means I am practising hard.

And that is good.

Because it means I am getting closer

to being

perfect.

I just need sleep.

 ** _Life_**

Wake.

Walk to bus station.

Work, work.

Bus to studio.

Dance, dance, dance, dance,

dance

until

I

bleed.

Bus home.

Sleep.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

 ** _Life Now_**

I have the lead part in the next part

in our next show.

Now:

Wake

Dance

Dance

Dance

Dance

Bleed

Dance

Dance

Dance

Dance

Until I have nothing left.

 ** _Rehearsal_**

I am trying.

I am trying so hard.

But still the instructor is

unhappy.

I am 'out of sync'.

I am 'not listening'.

I am imperfect.

So I try again. It is agony,

my feet hurt

and my head aches

and my arms want to snap.

But I still try.

I know this routine.

I jump

I am landing

and my legs won't catch me.

My chest hurts.

I am

falling

falling

falling

And red spots are dancing in my vision

and then they get blacker

and I am on the ground.

But did I fall

like a feather?

 ** _Hospital_**

Beeping

and chemicals

and people in white coats.

Am I okay?

 ** _Thoughts_**

am i okay? everything hurts.

why? am i okay?

am i okay?

am i?

am i?

 _ **Anorexia Nervosa**_

Malnourished.

Underweight.

Clearly very sick.

Why didn't you take her to a doctor?

I booked her an appointment, ( _Yao? Is that you?_ )

I tried to get her to eat. I'm sorry.

Heart failure.

Dehydration.

Bleeding.

I know, I know, can I see her?

Close family only.

They're in Moscow. There's only me. Please?

I'm sorry, rules are rules.

 ** _I Don't Think I'm Okay_**

I'm not okay.

But I thought I was almost thin enough.

But I thought I was almost perfect.

No?

Where did I go wrong?

 ** _Dr Beilschmidt_**

He is stern and blonde

and from Germany.

He puts me on a strict diet of sugar

and carbohydrate

that I can't keep down.

They think I am sick on purpose.

I am moved from the cardiac ward to the psychiatric ward.

I'm not crazy.

I'm scared I am.

 ** _Me_**

Yao comes every day

to persuade me to eat

and hold my hair back when I get sick

and stroke it when I cry.

I was alright before I was imprisoned here.

Now I feel like I am

shattered

into

little

pieces

that

I

can't

find

even

though

I

really

am

trying.

I ask Yao why he his still here and

interacting with my

shattered self

because what if he breaks too?

He says he wants to see me get better and be me again.

What does he mean?

 ** _I Know What He Means_**

What was I like a year ago?

It is like trying to find out

intimate details

about a total stranger.

I remember a girl who phoned her brothers

every day

because she missed them so much.

My phone is filled with missed calls now.

The sudden guilt hits like a hard punch to everywhere in my body.

They don't know I'm in the crazy ward so far away.

I want to go home.

I remember a girl who watered and cared for her flowers religiously

because they were little pieces of warmth

in a hard concrete city.

A girl who liked biscuits

and kittens.

A girl who lived for Tuesdays

because then she would see her only friend.

A girl who fell so hard for that friend,

who didn't know how to kiss him,

but figured it out.

When did I last talk to Yao, before he visited me in hospital?

Is it too late to mend us?

Or will it always be me, fragile and crying, and him,

trying to pick up my pieces?

 ** _I Want to be Anya Again_**

Where did that girl go?

At what point did she leave, dropping away like the body she didn't want?

I don't know.

I want her back.

But I don't know how to get her back.

Staying like I am seems so easy.

But at the same time, I want to not hurt and stay awake

and watch movies with Yao.

So I think I'll maybe try.

 ** _Internet Famous_**

I am on the internet. I am the cause of outrage

against ballet

against the dance industry

against my instructor.

People are talking about body image

and mental health

and women

and bodies.

I am being picked apart by strangers.

 _God, she's a skeleton_

 _This is fat if you're a model_

 _She was so pretty_

 _Okay but she must have been stressed, she was an immigrant_

It is strange.

And all it took was a fall.

 ** _Food_**

I am getting used to it. I am not vomiting.

I am praised for stopping, even though I wasn't doing it

on purpose.

And finally the day comes when I am heavy enough

to come home.

 ** _Home_**

I have not been here in three months.

It feels like years.

Yao has looked after my sunflowers.

I hug him and try and show him that I am grateful,

because until recently he was almost a stranger

and not a boyfriend.

 ** _Love_**

I stay up that night

and we watch a

movie.

I am tired, but only because

I have had a long day

and not because I am hurting

and alone.

I kiss Yao

and he kisses me.

I am even awake enough

to go further than that.

 _ **Dinner**_

Green curry with

rice

and chicken

and carrots

and peas.

I just have to eat a little.

A bit more than I did yesterday.

I manage to push it down.

 ** _Therapy_**

It's where I spend my

Tuesdays now.

I tell Dr. Williams what I am eating

and how I feel

and sometimes we just

talk about nothing,

which is nice.

She tells me how much I

should eat -

always only a little more than las week -

until I'm

almost

Anya

again.

 _ **Anya**_

The sunflowers are wilting.

Darkened petals fall

and litter the floorboards.

But that's alright.

They will be back next year.

And so will I.

I will mind them until then.

* * *

 **And I'm done!**

 **And I do realise that smooth recovery from anorexia doesn't happen often. But as the great Jacqueline Wilson said, "I only write happy endings because I Don't want to send a message to girls in that situation that they won't get through it." (Not exact words, but that's essentially what was said.)**

 **So to anybody actually suffering from an eating disorder:**

 **You're more than strong enough to get through this.**

 **Thank you so much for reading,**

 **~Rosie**


End file.
